


I'll Be Yours

by sarkywoman



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Intoxication, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/pseuds/sarkywoman
Summary: Written in 2012 for a kinkmeme and forgot to crosspost until now. A look at Thor and Loki's relationship developing from youth, through movie canon and a little beyond.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	I'll Be Yours

They run across the fields together, breathless half from the sprint and half from the laughter. Though Loki is the faster of the brothers , he tires faster and Thor soon finds he has run on ahead from his younger sibling. He jogs back to where Loki is panting for air, leaning down with his hands on his knees.

“Just a moment,” he gasps, drawing breaths in deep, blue-green eyes imploring.

“We are far enough away now,” Thor says, looking into the distance. “That giant did not seem very fast or very bright.”

Loki sits down on the grass, still panting. Thor’s heart is hammering, but his breaths are steady. He could still run. Not without his brother though. He sits down beside him.

“ ‘Twas very wise, what you did,” Thor tells his baby brother, still surprised that they have escaped. “Truthfully I did not understand half of what you told them.”

“I told them lies,” Loki says, his breathing finally returning to normal as they sat peacefully together. “Giant lies, for they were giants.”

Thor cannot help the ‘tsk’ sound that he makes. It is a habit learned from their parents. “You know you should not lie, Loki.”

“And you know you should not wander so far without telling a guard or father,” Loki retorts, mouth pinched and sour. “If I had not lied you would be giant food by now. Or worse, giant sport.”

Both boys shudder at the thought. They have heard terrible tales. Thor reaches out and places a hand on Loki’s knee. “I would not have you risk punishment for me.”

The paler boy huffs in annoyance. “If the giants had hold of me...” he holds up a hand to stop Thor speaking, even though the older brother had nothing to say. “I know, I know. It is unlikely _I_ would be foolish enough to get myself into such a situation...” Thor laughs, not really offended by the slight. “But let us imagine I were, and I was captured by the giants.” His smiling face turns serious as he looks his older brother in the eye. “Would you not risk punishment to save me?”

“You know that I would,” Thor insists. “You are my brother.” He takes Loki’s hand. “I would risk _everything_ for you.”

Loki’s eyes widen.

Though he squeezes Thor’s hand, he does not repeat the words back.

*

Loki is often told he shares the troubles of younger brothers in every realm. They have a predecessor who sets a standard they must follow. They are not simply allowed to be, but must be better. It does not seem fair. Or possible.

For five weeks now he has been required to meet with one of father’s advisors to discuss his studies and theories. One theory in particular is what began all this – when he posited that every mother only had one soul to share with her children. The mother needs to plan the sharing of her soul very carefully, he had explained to his bewildered tutor – lest she end up with a situation like he and Thor. His tutor had asked exactly what that situation was.

“I suspect our mother gave Thor all the soul,” Loki had said sadly. His tutor had immediately sought his father and now he was forced into these discussions.

“Thor loves you very much,” the advisor says with the same gentle, simpering voice she uses with him every other day, when they meet.

“I know,” Loki says simply. Thor loves everyone. Unless he hates them. He has no conception of apathy and no notion of careful judgement. “My brother is not very clever.”

“Would he love you if you had no soul, like you have suggested to me?”

“Yes.” It is infuriating, how slow these adults are in their comprehension of his theory. It is a fine theory. “Thor has an abundance of soul. He cannot help but love.”

“Do you love your brother?”

Loki thinks this over for a long time, but the advisor knows better than to prompt him. He thinks of the way his brother’s hair shines like the sun and the way his smile makes Loki feel lighter.

“Yes. I do.”

“Then you must have a soul too,” the advisor says, happy that she has solved the problem she was having. Loki does not want to spoil her self-congratulation, so he nods and agrees.

Thinking on it the rest of the day, late into the night when he can hear Thor snoring in his bed across the chamber, the real facts become bleakly apparent to him.

Thor has the part of soul meant for Loki. That is why Loki is drawn to him.

But Loki is still a child. His logical conclusion does not inspire despair, only infantile irritation that Thor has taken something of his. 

It is no problem though, he reassures himself as he snuggles deeper into the blankets. Thor will always keep him close.

*

Sometimes Thor feels he has outgrown his own skin. He is tall, he is broad, he is strong. Though he knows these things – is oft praised for them – they were not things he felt keenly until one day he overheard his mother speaking with her friends.

Thor had been headed into the gardens to search out his brother. Loki often read there under the shade of the oldest trees. Today though the giggling of goddesses stops Thor in his tracks and he knows his younger brother is far too wily to be caught in their gaze. Thor himself is retreating when he hears his mother’s comment.

“Thor needs Loki as the sun needs the moon. They both have their part to play. Thor is stronger and more handsome perhaps, but Loki is...” Frigga trails off.

Thor waits. Loki is many things, smarter, quieter, more respectful to their parents...

“Loki is a mystery to me,” their mother says quietly. The other women do not laugh at this.

The young thunder god walks back to the room he shares with his brother. Soon they shall be living in separate chambers – Thor is soon to be a man and Loki soon thereafter. 

The ceiling in their room is curved, making the chamber lower on one side than the other. Loki’s bed lies under the lower ceiling, for he has not grown as fast as Thor and need not fear bumping his head when he stands from his bed. His bed is much thinner than Thor’s under the neatly-laid blankets. Thor has recently been given a large, sturdier bed that will not sink so rapidly in the middle from his weight. Loki needs not fear such a thing since he lays on his small mattress like a feather resting on a leaf. 

Sitting in their room, Thor is suddenly struck by their differences. He has, without realising or raising protest from Loki, annexed most of the chamber as his own. Dirty clothes, stained with blood and mud, are thrown down like flags of a conquering army. His drawers are on the floor, tugged from their shelving in a fit of urgency one morning and never put back. His armour sits on its stand in the middle of the room, while Loki’s lightweight battle wear is hidden away in his wardrobe. Loki has a short bookshelf made of oak that is full of books and other trinkets. 

It is another surprise to realise he does not know the purpose or origin of any of Loki’s trinkets. Once they had been souvenirs from their adventures or gifts from their family. Over time they were replaced with newer fascinations and Thor lost track. Now he looks at shelves with delicate crystals and tiny bones on and he does not know what any of them are. 

He does not even know where Loki _is_.

It is hours later when his younger brother returns with a book in one hand and a knife in the other. Loki evades questions as only Loki can, then readies himself for bed. Thor cannot even tell when his brother is sleeping anymore. Loki is always so quiet, hiding himself away inside his head. A mystery, like mother said.

But he is Thor’s mystery to solve. Nobody else’s.

*

They are both growing, he and Thor. Thor is growing perhaps a tad faster, a tad more. He is brutishly strong now, leaving accidental bruises on Loki when he drags him to and fro from one place to another. Loki never mentions it, they are only bruises. It is not Thor’s fault he has outgrown his restraint. 

Conversely, Loki’s restraint has grown phenomenally in comparison to his physical strength. Every word he speaks is thought over twice, held up to the light of others for examination. What would they think of this observation, this joke, this remark? It never matters. His careful manipulation can never compare to Thor’s guileless warmth. It is perhaps the soul problem again. Though Loki cannot reconcile all parts of his childish theory with the logic he has learned over the years, he still feels the sensation that he is missing something. Something that Thor possesses in a vast quantity. This void in him seems to resonate with every Asgardian he speaks to. They can sense that he is hollow, though they cannot articulate it. 

His increasing magical power only confirms this sense of emptiness. He is a channel for mystical energies, able to funnel them easier than any Asgardian whose soul might get in the way. The shape-shifting leaves him feeling free and yet...lost. If even his form is fluid, what is there of Loki that remains constant? Might Loki not just vanish with the breeze, become something new and forgotten?

“Brother!”

Loki tears his gaze away from his reflection just in time for Thor’s mighty paw to clap heavily (painfully) onto his shoulder. “Brother.” That is who Loki is. Loki is brother. It is enough.

“You gaze into the mirror all evening like a woman,” Thor jests merrily. Then he cocks his head aside in the gesture he thinks makes him appear wise. “Unless... my little brother seeks to ready himself _for_ a woman?”

Play-fighting is years behind them, so Loki rolls his eyes where he would once have hit out. He knows better now than to strike against Thor’s barrel-chest. Loki has yet to have his final growth-spurt and he fears not even that will be enough to bring him to Thor’s level of strength and beauty. “You know I have no interest in such things.”

Thor laughs, squeezing his shoulder again (the bone creaks, unnoticed). “You will, Loki. Once you see what I see, you surely will.”

“I will never see what you see,” Loki scoffs. “Even if the same comely wench were paraded before the both of us.”

His older brother’s brow creases in confusion. “I do not understand.”

“No matter, let us depart.”

That evening, sat at dinner together amongst Thor’s friends and Odin’s allies, Loki realises Thor’s ignorance is a blessing. If he ever sees what _they_ see, he may recoil from the hollowness of Loki too. Then what would Loki be?

“You see?” Thor asks, his elbow in Loki’s side nudging the younger Prince out of his thoughts. 

Loki’s attention is guided to the scantily-clad maidens being provocative near their table. They are attractive, but the knowledge is just plain fact to him. It inspires no desire or want, merely a sort of detached...envy. “As I said, brother. I do not see as you see.”

Thor chuckles, warm and cheerful from the fun he is having. And the fun he is about to have. “Ah, my innocent Loki. One of these days you will.”

The thunder god strides over to the women to make eager new acquaintances. The girls smile prettily for him. And _that_ is what Thor sees that Loki never will. 

Only Thor smiles at him.

*

“It’s for the best,” Sif remarks as they climb the mountainside together. “Loki would be whining by now.”

“Aye,” Volstagg agrees, hefting his way up slowly beneath them. “Your brother has not the stamina for such prolonged feats of endurance.”

“Loki is hardier than you think,” Thor says, defending his brother as they scale the heights. He could fly up, but where is the fun in that? “He almost bested me in combat the other day.”

“Through trickery, no doubt,” Fandral replies, up above their heads. “His aptitude for deception is unparalleled. Does that not worry you?”

Thor would shrug, were his muscles not tensed with the effort of climbing a mountain. “Loki is clever, but I trust him. He is my brother. He is worthy of trust.”

After a long silence broken only by the sounds of their boots grinding against the rocks, Hogun speaks. “Heimdall says he cannot always see him.”

“ _That_ is a little troubling...” muses Fandral. “What could the runt be up to that he must hide from Heimdall?”

“I would thank you not to call my little brother a runt,” Thor says firmly. “He is your height now, is he not?”

“Not quite yet!” Fandral cries out defensively.

It makes Thor laugh and he has to grip the mountainside harder to ensure he does not slip. “I am sure he will soon be my height.”

Now the Warriors Three and Lady Sif began to laugh. “I doubt he will ever reach your size,” Sif says. “He does not have much time left before his growing is done and he still looks as though a breeze might blow him in two.” She reaches up and grabs Fandral’s offered hand and lets him pull her over onto the top of their obstacle. Thor pushes himself up onto the flat and all three pull Volstagg’s hefty weight up as Hogun jumps up nearby. 

As they pant for breath, Fandral points out something down below. “Hold up, there goes Loki now.”

The mountain was not so high that they could not make out Loki’s darkly-clothed form moving towards the forest. Thor sighs deeply. “Father has forbidden him from going into the forest since the fire.”

“That fire...” Volstagg gasps as quiet as his rumbling voice will allow. “Was Loki the cause of it?”

“No!” Thor cries out, shocked that his friends would think Loki capable of such destruction. Many animals had died. “ ‘Twas black magic that caused the blaze.”

His friends look at one another as though there is something they need to tell him. Eventually Sif steps forward, a deceptively delicate hand placed on his arm. “Thor, all of Asgard know that Loki practises the darkest magic. You must be more wary.”

“Wary? Of mine own brother?” Thor sneers. “Loki is not what you think he is.”

Sif draws back, unused to Thor’s hostility directed towards her. Volstagg and Hogun look away, avoiding the confrontation between friends.

“I hope you are right, Thor,” says Fandral. “But let us put such concerns behind us. Don’t we have a treasure to find?”

Everyone returns to their adventure and they force smiles until they become real. They fight a horde of powerful barbarians and take their loot. It is a good day.

The night finds Thor entering his brother’s chamber, fondly thinking of the years they had shared a room. Loki is sat on the floor drawing strange runes on the stone with a piece of burnt wood. He hesitates when he sees Thor, like a deer hearing a crack of a twig in the woods. 

On the bedside table a flame flickers. It has no candle beneath it, merely space where the source of the flame should be.

Thor meets Loki’s guarded gaze. Though he trusts his younger brother, Loki is clearly wary of him. The realisation chafes. Thor has given his brother no reason to distrust him. He hopes he never will.

They stare at each other for a long time, the black magic symbols on the floor between them.

“You should be careful father does not hear of your trips to the forest,” Thor says quietly. “Heimdall is not the only Asgardian with eyes and I cannot defend your reputation from them all.”

_I would die trying_.

Loki cannot hear his thoughts and so merely thanks him for his counsel and bids him goodnight. 

*

Only Thor can make him so angry. Loki does not care for the opinions of anyone else, does not care _about_ anyone else, they can all do as they please. But Thor is his brother, his one friend, the holder of Loki’s soul.

A wall between them and Thor is bedding four maidens. Simultaneously. For all his reading, Loki is not entirely sure how that is possible. It is not a subject that intrigued him enough to warrant intensive study and as a result he is somewhat less experienced in physical love than his peers. But four women – all drooling idiots rubbing their hands over his brother’s muscles – went into Thor’s chamber with him and Loki can hear each of them crying out their pleasure. His brother is rumoured to be a fantastic lover.

Loki finds himself wondering what it is like to be with Thor. His brother is so unrestrained, so passionate... What must it be like to be the recipient of his affection?

Eyes closed, Loki wraps his arms around himself and tries to imagine Thor pulling him into a hug. Loki has begun avoiding embraces, worried that he is encouraging Thor’s trespass while discouraging others. Such favouritism would undoubtedly be noticed and it would not do to have Thor realising how special he is.

His hands rub up and down his own skin in an attempt to soothe himself, but Loki finds his own touch lacking something. He wonders if that feeling is true to everyone or if it is another side-effect of his absent soul. His hands are too slight, too soft. Thor’s hands are strong and thick and rough from battle. Thinking of them caressing him makes Loki’s mouth water and he swallows the excess saliva. Licks his dry lips.

He leans back, head resting against the wall separating him from his frolicking brother. On the other side of this wall, his brother exerts himself to get satisfaction for himself and his partner. Loki imagines he is sweating as he does in sparring. 

A particularly loud grunt from Thor carries through the wall and pulls at Loki where he is aching. The trickster presses a hand to his lips and grips his side tightly with the other. If he lets either hand wander it might wander into temptation. Loki masters his emotions. Base desires do not control him.

When he once said as much to his brother, Thor had laughed. He had not even bothered to argue or pass judgement, just dismissed it as the naivety of a virgin. Loki had refused to speak to him all day.

One of the girls next door is alternating between whimpers and moans. Thor’s voice is a low murmur, but when Loki turns his head and presses his ear closer against the wall, he can make out his words.

_“So beautiful beneath me, yes... Take me inside of you... Let me have you... Let me see all of you... Oh yes mine, so perfect...”_

It excites his body and twists his stomach and makes him sad and it is too much, too confusing and none of his theories or studies give Loki a clue as to how he can stop these feelings.

He leaves his chamber and its echoes of pleasure and walks. He walks quickly, he walks far. He spends the night lazing in the lake by the woods. The water is chilled in the cold night air and it is a soothing balm to Loki’s frayed wits. Thor should not be able to confuse him. Thor is a fool.

Loki sleeps on the grass by the lake and wakes to his brother frantically shaking him, admonishing him for wandering in the night and for entering the lake, “the icy chill of which will bring death.” It had not been so frosted over in the night, Loki is certain.

Although Loki does not give an excuse for his night-time venture, Thor always finds somewhere other than his chamber to take the maidens from then on.

*

Just when Thor thinks he has a handle on his younger brother, that he is beginning to understand the way Loki’s sharp mind works, the tricky god undergoes a new metamorphosis. 

Thor has grown accustomed to never seeing his brother smile, to seeing the slight smirk instead of a full turn up of the lips. He has come to accept Loki is the quiet and retiring type, that they would never share the raucous adventures that Thor had experienced with the Warriors Three. They would not be the sort of brothers who pushed one another to the bosom of a waiting wench. And while he knew Loki would _always_ be allied with him in battle, it seemed as though they would never be true brothers in arms. Loki would always much rather practise his sorcery than spar.

In truth, these realisations had not been as troublesome as Thor might have once expected them to be. Loki’s less recognisable skill on the battlefield, with a focus on evasion rather than fortitude, might save his life when more traditional warriors are slain. Thor would rather have his sneaky brother alive than cherish the memory of a strong warrior brother, dead in battle. The Warriors Three will continue to support Thor in his wild, unnecessary fights and will happily join him in the glorious banquets that follow. As for the women, well, it is clear that Loki does not possess the same temperament as Thor in such things. It makes sense, in a fashion, for his brother clearly possesses a keener mind and it is natural that he seeks intellectual stimulation rather than physical. The fact that Loki rarely smiles any more is the most troubling aspect of his near-adult self, but the younger god continues to reassure his brother that all is well, so perhaps Loki simply holds his smiles too dear to spend on everyone. That theory has always given Thor the most satisfaction, as when Loki does smile, it is for him.

At least... it was. Tonight Thor stands in the doorway of the hall, watching a man that looks like his quiet and refined brother, but does not act like he. This handsome young man is smiling, drinking and speaking with people he would usually avoid. Thor is concerned anew. Their mother has said Loki is merely ‘growing up’, but Thor knows such changes do not happen over the course of a few weeks, as they have done here. Even his friends have expressed alarm and they care very little about Loki’s behaviour. Volstagg was the one to knock at Thor’s chamber this evening and tell him of Loki’s current location and actions. Thor had left Sif unsatisfied in his haste to get here, though she seemed unsurprised.

Now he stands barely inside the hall and watches his brother make merry. There are few females around. A guard shift has just ended and as such the hall is full of nameless warriors drinking their fill. Volstagg stands just behind Thor, looking anxious.

“It seems harmless enough,” the voluminous hero says to Thor, “But he has drunk heavily and I was under the impression your brother does not usually partake of such things.” 

“A goblet of wine every so often is enough for Loki to be light-headed,” Thor mutters. The pair have still not been spotted – Loki seems too involved in his company to notice them. He laughs, and Thor is stunned by the long-lost sound. “You were right to summon me, Volstagg. Thank you.”

His friend shrugs. “There’s no love lost between me and Loki, but a troubled man ought not be left to liquor.”

Dearest Volstagg, always more insightful than he gives himself credit for. “You are right, friend. Loki is troubled of late and I will find out why. This behaviour bodes ill.”

Thor has barely taken a step forward when something happens that roots him to the spot. One of the men Loki is talking with presses their lips together in a kiss. As Thor waits for his brother to startle away and strike the man for the affront, Loki does no such thing. He leans in like a wanton, allows the man’s trespass.

Volstagg’s restraining hand is brushed away like fluff as Thor storms forward, wishing he had brought Mjolnir that he might smash this presumptuous guard into pieces. “LOKI!”

Everyone in the hall jumps except for Loki Odinson, who turns sedately to face his brother. His green eyes are heavy with drunkenness. “Thor,” he greets with a warm smile. “I did not know you would be here.” His words slur into each other. “Would you like some wine?” He holds up the goblet, then draws it back, inspecting the inside of it curiously. “Oh, someone drank it.”

“I suspect I know who,” growls Thor. He reaches out and grabs his brother’s arm, pulling him to his feet and way from the daring guard. “You are coming home with me _now_ , brother.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Loki insists, shaking his head. “Alf has invited me to his chamber.”

Thor snarls at ‘Alf’, who seems inclined to rescind the invitation now. Incensed, Thor can no longer think of adequate words so instead grabs Loki by the young man’s narrow hips and lifts him easily over his shoulder like a barbarian stealing a maiden. Then, without another word, he walks out. Volstagg hurries along behind him.

“I’m sure Alf never meant...”

“Goodnight, Volstagg,” Thor says, interrupting his attempt to defend the guard’s honour. “I need to put my brother to bed.” 

After Volstagg’s departure there is no more talk aside from Loki’s groans and requests to be put down. Thor ignores him and carries him the entire way to their chambers. Once there, he enters Loki’s room and throws his brother down onto the bed. Loki sighs deeply and closes his eyes, but now Thor is ready to speak. “What were you thinking?!”

“I liked his hands...” Loki mumbles drowsily. The clear intoxication is only making Thor angrier as he imagines that guard dragging Loki back to his chamber in this state.

“Have you done this before?” Thor snaps. “Is it another secret hobby? Bedding lesser men like some common whore of the court?” The idea is maddening. He thought he knew his little brother. Loki is supposed to be above all this. Loki is pure, the one thing Thor has for himself, the one thing with no expectations of him. Loki is _his_ and the thought of him being seen vulnerable by anyone else is driving Thor to new depths of terrible feeling.

Loki laughs, eyes still closed. “Of course not. I would hardly need the liquid courage if I were an experienced lover.”

The situation turns on its head again and Thor is dizzy with it all. He sits down at the edge of Loki’s bed, studying his brother’s face. “You are still untouched?”

“None of your business,” Loki grumbles. 

“You need not be ashamed of your desires,” Thor says, trying to regain ground as the sympathetic brother. “If the male form pleases your eye more than the female then... yes, it is strange, but no cause for shame or embarrassment.”

One green eye opens to fix Thor with a cynical gaze. “That was not the impression you gave when you dragged me out of there.”

Thor sighs. Of course his reaction is being misinterpreted. Loki is in no condition to have this discussion. “You are drunk, little brother. It is not wise to approach your first time with a clouded mind. Approach it with clarity. It is an experience to be cherished and shared with one you care for.”

The trickster pushes himself upright on the bed and graceful as a sober nymph, slides himself into Thor’s lap so that he is straddling the thunder god. The wine is still in his eyes though, heavy-lidded and unfocused as he looks at Thor’s face. “With you then, brother. I suppose there is no avoiding it.” A faint sigh passes through Loki’s lips, near enough for the air to brush Thor’s cheek. “And I had _so_ hoped to avoid giving you this.”

“Loki...” Thor begins to speak, voice shaking. This is not something he had expected. It was an illicit desire never thought of but in dreams and occasionally in his moments of release. 

“I imagine it always was going to be this way,” Loki says as he rocks gently in his brother’s lap. His voice, usually so perfectly eloquent, is still slurred from drink. “You have so much of me, I had hoped to keep this away from you. I thought...perhaps...I could just abstain. Forever.” 

Loki’s gentle rocking is making Thor ache and though he needs to push his little brother away he finds his hands failing to do their duty, falling to temptation and sliding around Loki’s writhing body. 

“But then you would find pleasure so near and I could hear you and...and I _wanted_...” 

Loki’s voice is falling into the pleading whine that he puts on when he is not being heeded. Thor finds himself wondering if he sounds similar when he comes. As Loki gasps and arches against him, the older god realises he might soon find out despite the clothing separating them. This has to stop, now. He is taking advantage of Loki by allowing this. “Enough, little brother.” His hands co-operate finally and clamp down around Loki’s hips, holding him still.

“It isn’t,” Loki moans brokenly, so unlike himself Thor considers the possibility his brother is under enchantment. “You have so much of me, you may as well have this too. Take me, have me. It is useless to pretend anymore that I am whole without you.”

There are few moments in a god’s life where he recognises a test put before him. For Thor, this is one. Loki’s words, heartfelt and helpless, almost bring him to completion without touch. Yet this is his beloved brother, untouched by man or woman. And he is ridiculously intoxicated.

Thor stands and lifts Loki with him. Lays the trickster back down on the bed. “Sleep, Loki.”

“But...”

“ _Sleep_.”

Seeing the sudden misery in his brother’s gaze, Thor takes one of Loki’s limp hands and brings it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I am not angry, brother. Truly. But you must sleep now. Please.”

With a huff of annoyance Loki turns away. Thor takes his leave, ignoring the sounds of Loki fumbling with his clothes.

The thunder god returns to his chamber and takes Sif until she is unfit for her morning spar.

*

The hazy memory of his behaviour is mortifying. When he first wakes the morning after his ill-advised binge, the realisation of what he has said to Thor has Loki biting his treacherous tongue. The stains on his sheets provoke further disgust as he imagines what a filthy picture he must have made, drunk and groping at himself in thrall to his baser instinct.

Loki manages to avoid Thor all day, though he does encounter Volstagg who attempts to counsel him. It is fairly awkward and brief and once Loki has disentangled himself from the well-meaning idiot, he goes to one of his hiding places – a space between some thick hedges down near the bottom of one of mother’s gardens. Although he brings a spellbook to read, he finds he cannot concentrate.

He can remember the feel of Thor’s hardness beneath him, hidden away by his clothes but pressing to Loki’s groin nonetheless. He remembers the way his brother’s strong hands had caressed his sides, smoothed soothingly up his spine.

Gritting his teeth, Loki presses his book down against his blood-filled member, which now strains at his trousers. This is not who he wants to be. He is not some wretched harlot to be bedded then abandoned by the mighty Thor. He is Loki Odinson. He is ‘brother’. And it would kill him to be discarded. 

While their tryst would undoubtedly be the stuff of romantic legend, the aftermath would leave a lot to be desired. Loki would have given Thor the final piece of himself and as such, would lose all mystery. Thor would finally know him completely and would realise after all these years that there has never been anything worth loving in Loki. Then he would leave, walk away with everything. And Loki would be worthless to him, would not even be brother anymore. 

But how long can he stand this ache? This stupid, pathetic yearning to be nearer and nearer Thor, until his brother is actually _within_ him, filling the void with his warmth. Thinking on the previous night still brings a blush to Loki’s cheeks, but with it comes a flush of heat to his lower regions. It had felt good to let go.

This temptation is exactly why he ventured to the guard hall in the first place. None of those men care about him one whit. They would have sampled his body and taken his innocence where Thor could no longer have it. One piece of Loki secreted away. Or would destroyed be the more appropriate term?

As the day slowly turns to night, Loki knows he cannot let Thor have him. He knows he is wanted. There is no doubt about that. He can remember the feel of Thor’s strong, thick manhood pushing up against him. The memory makes him shudder again with arousal. But he cannot attempt the guards again. He will not have Thor view him as some lust-addled boy, which is clearly the impression he gave last night. No. He needs to be better somehow. He cannot be disposable. He needs to drag himself up to Thor’s level, claw his way out of Thor’s shadow so that his big brother doesn’t see a black hole when he looks at Loki. Because that’s all the trickster feels he is sometimes – a big black hole, trying to swallow up the blinding star that is Thor Odinson. As long as he is that hungry, empty thing, Thor cannot truly care for him.

But Loki retreated into the dark a long time ago. He does not know how to shine.

*

Thor does not see his brother for days. He sits outside Loki’s chamber awaiting the younger god’s return, but somehow he misses him, Loki truly being the stealthiest being in Asgard. 

When they are finally in the same place at the same time it is a family dinner and Loki refuses to look at him until their father makes an announcement that makes continued disinterest an impossibility.

“You are going to be crowned King of Asgard, Thor. The time has come.”

It is splendid news and Thor laughs with joyous surprise. He turns to share his smiles with Loki, but his brother quickly looks away, back down at his plate of barely-touched food.

Father wishes to discuss the whole ceremony with him, so Thor is forced to stay long after Loki and their mother have left. All he wants to do is chase after his brother and glory in this news with him as they would have done prior to Loki’s night of drunken wantonness. The night that continues to play out in Thor’s mind again and again, sometimes with a very different ending.

By the time Odin is done discussing responsibility with him, hours have passed and Thor is _burning_ with the need to speak to Loki. He almost runs from the hall in his haste to reach his brother’s chambers. Thankfully Loki does not ignore him this time, but answers the door after the second rap of Thor’s strong fist against the wood. Thor strides into the room, just in case Loki feels like closing the door.

“Congratulations are in order,” Loki says in a voice with no jubilation. “Mere days from now you will be King of Asgard. I suppose I should get used to bowing before you.”

Perhaps it is not Loki’s intention to burden those words with such salacious overtones, but Thor hears them nonetheless and clears his throat nervously. “You know I would not insist upon displays of servitude from you, brother.”

“No, I suppose they would not be necessary,” Loki says airily as he sits down on the end of his bed. “You are well aware of your position in relation to mine.”

Again the words are said with one meaning but gain another when shaped by Loki’s mouth. Thor wants his position to be directly above Loki, pinning him down into the softness of those blankets, wringing sweet sounds of desire from his pretty pink lips. “Loki,” Thor says softly, moving over to where his brother is seated and daring to place a hand upon his narrow shoulder. The tunic is cold to the touch, as if Loki has been out somewhere icy. “You are my brother. We have always been equal and always will be.”

Loki laughs, but it is a bitter sound. “Then why can we not both be King?”

“That... that is not how it works. You know that.”

“Aye.” Loki glares at the floor. “I know full well how it works.”

Thor does not know what to say to that, so squeezes his brother’s shoulder in a way he hopes grants comfort. “You feel cold.”

“I have been wandering.”

“But Asgard is warm this evening.”

“Indeed.”

It pulls a laugh from the thunder god. “You are so infuriatingly confusing for me.” This comment at least makes Loki smile slightly. “You will attend the crowning ceremony?” He has to ask. Loki must witness his moment of triumph or it will be no triumph. But mayhap his brother is still embarrassed by his moment of loose behaviour.

A quiet “of course” calms Thor’s concern. “I would not want to miss my brother’s victorious ascension to a level of greatness untouchable by us lesser gods.”

He is not sure which emotion guides his hand, but Thor grabs his brother’s chin and tilts his face to look into his eyes. “Do not speak of yourself that way.”

Loki slaps at his hand and Thor lets go. “Do not delude yourself,” the trickster snaps. He stands from the bed as though he can no longer sit still and paces a few steps away from his brother, not turning to face him when he speaks. “You will shortly be the most glorious thing in Asgard. You know it to be true so why must you lie to me?!” On the last word he whirls around to glare at his older brother, dark cloak flaring out around him, looking beautiful in his mysterious rage. 

“What lies have I told?” Thor cries out, bewildered by his brother’s outrage.

The question seems to pierce Loki’s ire and the younger brother sighs miserably before rubbing a hand over his weary face. “You have not. I apologise. My sleep has been disturbed of late. The lies I speak of are mere implications, turned into lies by my own mind. Forgive me...your majesty.”

“Loki...” Thor says quietly, imploring.

“What?” his brother says with a false smile. “It is good practise. Now be off, I am certain you have much to consider and I have much to study before the night is over.”

As he moves to depart, Thor pauses beside his brother. He reaches out with a gentle hand and cups Loki’s cheek. Then, ever so slowly as if Loki is an animal that might be spooked, Thor leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Though it is tempting, he does not look back as he leaves.

*

Just a little time, that is all Loki is after. A little longer with Thor at an attainable level of godhood. Loki can still reach him now, can still find a way to bind them together forever. 

When Thor is King there will be no way to be his equal. He will be the burning sun of Asgard and Loki will merely be one of the orbiting planets. Thor will be everything and Loki will mean nothing. When Thor is King he will be able to order Loki into his bed as he would any wench and though the idea might seem preposterous at first, Loki knows how determined his brother can be when he wants something.

No, it simply will not do to have Thor crowned King. Loki could barely hope to become worthy of Thor Odinson’s affection, but to fight to keep the attention of the Almighty Thor, Ruler of Asgard? It would be pointless to even try. As soon as that crown alights Thor’s golden hair his mind will be full of thoughts of a Queen and children to be his heir. A son as brave and strong as he, perhaps a daughter who could re-enact Loki’s superfluous role in the family with more grace. And what would Loki be then? 

Alone. His brother will have more important concerns, busy casting deeper shadows than ever. Shadows so deep Loki might lose himself in them as he stands unnoticed beside the throne.

Thor cannot be King. The thought of watching his brother walk up those steps gives Loki true physical pain. It makes him feel ill. All eyes on Thor, forever. Thor will finally be able to have anything and anyone and Loki’s virginal teasing cannot hope to compare to that. Thor will grow up, move on and leave him.

It is just as well then, that Thor will not be crowned King this week. Loki has arranged for some visitors to disrupt the ceremony. It required so much ingenuity and daring that he really wishes he could tell his brother about it.

Ah well. Thor will find out in time.

*

Everything has fallen apart so quickly and so completely. Barely two days prior Thor had been walking towards the throne of Asgard. Now he sits in some Midgard facility with flimsy walls and strange machines, unable to lift his own hammer.

Damnable frost giants. Had they only attacked another day, perhaps Thor would have been king by now. Perhaps he would not have argued with his father then flown in the face of Loki’s sage advice.

Oh, Loki... Thor can still remember the look on his brother’s face as their father railed against them. How the tender heart had flinched away from their father’s ire. What does Loki do now in Asgard? Are they at war? Is his brother embroiled in grievous danger caused by Thor’s arrogance? If anything happens to Loki while Thor is trapped on Midgard then the Thunder God will never learn his lesson, for his rage against the frost giants will become infinite.

Suddenly Loki is before him, the grave expression on his face clashing sharply with the hope in Thor’s soul. Thor is perhaps not wise but he is not foolish and he knows Loki is about to give him terrible news. He wants to clutch his brother to his body and keep him silent. But he doesn’t and Loki – dressed in a more fitting manner for Midgard than Thor – speaks his terrible words softly.

Father is dead.

Thor’s exile is forever. 

He weeps. His noble, brave father is gone, a lifetime of patient guidance ended in a ridiculous argument. Was it the disappointment that killed him? Did All-father Odin lay on his deathbed lamenting the fact that he had reproduced? Was Thor’s folly the last thought in his mind?

The tears continue to fall as the severity of his sentence settles on him. He will never see Asgard again. The shining halls and the splendour of the Bifrost. Daily sparring matches with powerful warriors and Loki’s elegant magic practise. His dear mother, her heart must be broken.

It is barely possible to see Loki through the tears. Loki Odinson, King of Asgard. That too renews Thor’s grief. He has never wanted to drop an ounce of the kingdom’s weight on Loki’s delicate shoulders. It is not that he thinks Loki incapable, that could not be farther from the truth. But ruling Asgard is not a responsibility Loki will ever be free from now and it pains Thor to think of his younger brother putting their kingdom before his life. ‘Tis not the life Thor dreamed up for his Loki. But now, due to his own foolhardy and violent ways, that dream is never going to come to pass.

‘Goodbye’ is whispered to his brother, and his world. _Are they not one and the same, these days?_

After Loki is gone, Thor realises he has lost the last chance to kiss him.

*

The world has always seemed a distant thing to Loki, as though it were Atlantis beneath the seas and he trod water on the surface. Asgard has never embraced him as it embraced Thor. The only way to survive was to stop needing that embrace. What was the denial of love to someone who did not need love? 

Now he sees that love is indeed a drug that all creatures are addicted to and perhaps he has only survived this long due to the meagre dose Thor gave him all these years. Without Thor, Loki might have wasted away a long time ago. And now he is forced to face a future without Thor, because _Thor is not his brother_. The fraternal instinct that guides Thor in his treatment of Loki is false, discarded now that their father knows there is no use for it. When Thor returns from exile he will be an only child with a frost giant trespassing in the chamber next door.

With his father’s confession, Loki feels Asgard fall further away from him. It was once a world he held under a magnifying glass for study, now he feels he needs a telescope. He feels colder, as if he is stood on Jotunheim and he knows that it is only a matter of time before he is sent back there. When Asgardians speak to him their voices are muffled, as though they speak through a wall. Sanity has always been an abstract fascination for Loki, something he felt he would happily cast off if it were the cost for becoming greater, now he clings to it with his teeth. Still it slips away, and he sends the Destroyer. Thor will never come home. Even if his exile ends in the best possible way, the god that returns will not be the Thor that Loki can reach. The Thor that returns will not have a brother to come home to.

Thor pleads with him and calls him brother. He doesn’t yet know. Nobody knows. How long can Loki keep the secret? He would have Thor die ignorant of Loki’s truth. Thor should die at the hands of his beloved brother Loki, not live to discover Loki is not... not anything. Not brother, not Asgardian, not a friend, not an equal... not anything. A frost giant babe disguised as a son of Odin.

Perhaps he can earn the right to be son, though. He is not like the Jotunns any more than he is like the Asgardians. If he chooses Asgard, then maybe Asgard will choose him?

The Destroyer is victorious, it appears. Loki has a brief glimpse of his brother’s prone and lifeless mortal body and feels... No. It is all so very far away. There is no time for it anyway for Loki has so much to take care of. His father is about to kill his father. The side Loki chooses will make him Jotun or Asgardian. By the end of the day he will be something. Never again will he be brother, though.

Loki reminds himself he never was brother. ‘Twas a lie, like everything else. No wonder he is the master of deception. His whole self is a deceit.

He heads to his father’s chamber, ready to forge a new better lie to wear.

* 

Nothing is making any sense. He is told that Loki lied to him and while it is believable, it simply makes _no sense_. But then, Loki has always been the wisest of them, perhaps his motives are merely beyond Thor’s comprehension?

In his attempt to reason with his brother, Thor is struck down. It feels like a killing blow and all he can think as Jane’s pretty face blurs above him, is that he does not mind so much that it was Loki. He can forgive his little brother anything, it seems, though if he did live he would surely have some manner of vengeance prior to that forgiveness. Laying here, his strength ebbing, he remembers all the years he has spent with his brother. So much opportunity there and it has all come to this. He remembers kissing his brother on the forehead not so long ago and even though it is that same brother who has struck him down, Thor’s biggest regret is that he will never press a similar kiss to Loki’s lips.

As if the Universe sympathises (or perhaps, more ludicrously, his father gives his blessing), Mjolnir flies back to his hand and there is no more time to reminisce. Loki must be saved from himself. 

He journeys to the site of his fall with the Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and the humans who have cared for him. Lady Jane bestows a kiss upon him and he promises he will return. After Loki’s behaviour father is sure to exile him and Thor will not leave his brother to fall to Midgard alone.

They return to Asgard and Thor finds his brother much altered. He is frantic, maddened and irrational. His actions are violent and dangerous, guided by lunacy. What drove him to this? Thor is resolved not to fight him, but then Loki threatens the woman who showed Thor such kindness in his exile. Violence is still all Thor knows, so it must be violence that will snap Loki out of this fit of insanity. 

It is not difficult to best him in combat. Loki’s brilliance lies in his tactical genius and his expert feints, both of which are suffering for his hysteria. Thor pins him with his hammer, then has to take Mjolnir back in an attempt to smash the Bifrost before Loki’s genocide is successful. 

A minute later and Thor is wishing he had left the hammer holding Loki down, even though it would have meant the destruction of Jotunheim. Loki is far more precious than a planet of giants and he hangs precariously over oblivion. Thor does too, of course, but that is really neither here nor there to him. He trusts his father’s hold on him while fearing that his hold on Loki’s lance may not be enough. Or maybe _Loki’s_ hold will not be enough. 

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he sees Loki’s fingers uncurl, an expression of abject misery on his brother’s beautiful face. Thor screams out, but still Loki plummets.

When his father pulls him up to safety, Thor curses him with every cruel word Loki ever taught him. Odin takes no action until Thor tries to follow his brother, at which point the All-father knocks him out cold.

Thor goes into the darkness with many more regrets this time. 

*

He is Loki, God of Mischief. God of Fire. God of Chaos. God of Evil, when he is in a particularly dark mood. 

He is the confidant of tyrants, their warped conscience and muse. The shadow that whispers to them behind their padded chairs then abandons them when they are in their padded cells.

He is a villain, for the stakes are higher these days and mischief is taken so personally by its victims. Every scheme he concocts offends someone and he has learned to glory in antagonism. 

He is disowned in public and sought after in private. A dark force to be toyed with in secret. And oh, how he is toyed with. Thor would be furious at the hedonist Loki has become in these dark days and darker nights. Bedded by creatures that despise him just so they know they are weak against him. He can be man, woman, serpent, horse, plant, ethereal, immovable, bright, dark... the possibilities are infinite and everyone wants something different. (Nobody wants him of course. Some things never change.)

He is a lover and a weapon, an instigator and arbiter. He binds mortals with lies and watches them tear each other apart.

Sometimes he finds he has forgotten what he looks like (the mask that is, never the blue skin beneath) and he is forced to drop his enchantments and find a mirror. 

He is a dreamweaver and the stuff of nightmares. Sometimes his sleep is filled with visions of the abyss he fell through and he wakes screaming. Sometimes he dreams Thor pulled him up onto the Bifrost and he wakes in a fit of fire and ice.

Still he smiles when he sees his brother again and again in battle. 

Now Loki has all the time in the world. And then some.

*

Thor is tired. Not simply weary from battle though his body _is_ sore and bruised. No, the exhaustion that troubles him is of the emotional kind. 

Once upon a time he would have heartily mocked any soul that suggested he would ever tire of battle. He is Thor, God of Thunder. Storms rumble like the marching of troops and lightning always strikes. How could he ever grow disheartened with the fight?

When the enemy is his brother, all is different. The battle feels innately wrong, no matter how many times Loki threatens Midgard or attacks the Avengers or leads peaceful countries to war with one another. Thor’s human allies see Loki as a ‘supervillain’, a menace and nothing more. They expect Thor to beat him down without hesitation.

Thor sees his little brother, quiet and troubled, hiding behind his mischief. Brilliant in his way, but alone for all his temporary villainous ‘friends’. He remembers the light press of Loki in his lap, desperate and wanton. He examines years of the growing distance between them and wonders if he was at fault. Could he have found a way to keep Loki closer? Though Loki had striven to be Thor’s equal in body, Thor had never even attempted to become Loki’s equal in mind. His little brother’s intellect soared too high... perhaps that was where the problem lay? After all, Thor only feels so low when he thoroughly contemplates matters such as this. Mayhap Loki’s tendency to think so deeply dragged his mood down to the same depths, made him miserable and blinded him to the affection in those around him.

“Glare any harder at that ceiling and it will fall in on you,” murmurs a familiar voice from the doorway. Thor starts and reaches for his hammer, but there is no aggression in Loki’s step from the shadows.

“Loki,” Thor growls, remembering he is in the Avengers base, he is currently an Avenger. Thor the Avenger does not have a dear brother, only a villainous one. “What business have you here?”

The trickster smiles slightly and wanders over to the bed where Thor lies. “Personal business,” he says, giving nothing away as he takes a seat on the edge of Thor’s bed. 

“I am weary from our battle, Loki. I have no time for your treachery tonight.”

The younger god raises an eyebrow. His pale skin seems to glow, not from the moonlight or streetlamps outside, but from its own innate magic. “No? Pity.” He stands and smoothes out imaginary creases in the flimsy silken robes he is dressed in. “Do you think Tony Stark would have time for my treachery? Or Steve Rogers?” he cocks his head aside and looks into the distance. “Though I believe they are sharing a room right now so I might not have to choose.”

Pointless transparent baiting, but Thor snatches his brother’s wrist in a bruising grip nonetheless. “Just _stop_ , brother. Please. Stop.” He does not just mean the ridiculous words and from the sudden stare of Loki’s luminescent green eyes, his brother knows it.

“Can I?” Loki asks in a whisper. “Have I done enough?” With a quick flick of his free wrist Loki throws aside Thor’s blankets and slides atop him, evoking a strong feeling of déjà-vu. But this Loki does not tremble, does not sway. It is only his eyes, strangely fearful, that remind Thor this is his little brother, his dear Loki. 

“We cannot,” Thor says quietly, releasing his grip on Loki’s wrist. 

“We are not true brothers,” Loki says, narrow shoulders lifting in a slight shrug. The robes fall slightly open. He is nude beneath them. 

Thor feels himself begin to harden under the tempting weight of Loki’s body. “On Midgard I am hailed as a hero.” His voice is not as firm as he would like. “You are one of their worst villains.”

Loki nods, as though Thor is agreeing with him. “Aye. A super-hero...” His slender, devious hands slide up Thor’s chest, palms pressing the muscles there. “And a super-villain.” He smiles again. It is so long since Thor has seen _genuine_ delight grace those lips. “Equal in everything but morality. And morality is such a subjective, trifling thing.” The smile fades and the eyes that meet Thor’s are fearful again. “Have I not yet earned this? Am I not yet your equal?”

The ramifications of his words are... far too heavy to contemplate. Thor does not know where to begin and he admits that freely. “I do not understand, Loki.”

His brother laughs. For once there is no malice in the sound. “Oh, Thor.” He reaches one of his hands up to caress Thor’s stubble. “You don’t have to. Just...” he trails off with a sigh, seemingly losing the impetus behind his words. 

“Just what?” This could all be a game. A trick. Mischief. But Thor has always fallen into Loki’s snares before climbing out of them, why should he fight this one?

“Promise me something and I will be yours.”

It is no trick. Loki’s voice has never held such weight. What he offers is no middling thing. Thor realises this is not simply an offer of a night-time’s truce. It is a resolution and perhaps, for Loki, absolution. One night might be the start of forever and Thor has never wanted _anything_ so much in all his life.

“Anything,” he vows, matching Loki’s rare sincerity.

A smile flits across Loki’s face before fleeing from the gravity of his next words. “Simply promise me that as I am yours, you are mine.”

Suddenly, it all makes horrifying, terrible sense. So much pain could have been avoided. Thor has blamed himself and questioned all that he knew but all along, _Loki_ has been the one that did not understand. 

Thor sits upright, his arms wrapping around his brother’s hips before Loki can topple. He buries his face against his brother’s neck and begs forgiveness in his mind for not stating the obvious much sooner.

“Loki, I have always been yours.”


End file.
